


It’s not perfect (but it gets easier)

by KneecapYeeter



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Eating Disorders, Hurt/Comfort, I Will Go Down With This Ship, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, McDonald's, Panic Attacks, Sad with a Happy Ending, Trauma, wow this one’s cheerful
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-14 20:54:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29052456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KneecapYeeter/pseuds/KneecapYeeter
Summary: Will and Nico have a nice day out in the city. No monsters, no battles, no gods, no weird. Just the two of them being normal people on a normal date.Except the memories don’t just go away for a fun day out. They’re still war-torn, exhausted and done with the world. Things don’t just magically fix when it’s peaceful.A.K.A. Nico has a panic attack at McDonalds because sometimes food just doesn’t agree with you. The timeline is screwed.
Relationships: Nico di Angelo & Will Solace, Nico di Angelo/Will Solace
Comments: 2
Kudos: 43





	It’s not perfect (but it gets easier)

Nico signed from where he was curled over the corner booth and curled further in on himself in exhaustion. His hair was a puddle of ink dripping onto the seat and towards the leftover-covered floor, limbs tucked under an aviator jacket that hung loosely off his thin frame.

“Why did you get happy meals? You’re like ten foot tall.” 

Grasping a dozen child-sized nuggets, Will grinned from ear to ear, bright with mirth. He dropped down into the chair with a rather heavy _thud_ and tossed his friend a burger. “Don’t get your hair in your food like last time,” he teased, “You turned the white flurry black and your black hair white. We nearly had to chop it off!”

In retaliation for the slight on his honour, a lithe hand slid out of Nico’s fabric haven to snatch both coffees for himself, depositing the burger back on the table. “I need more caffeine to deal with you,” he grumbled, retracting back into his cocoon.

“I spent a lot on this and you’re practically a skeleton. Eat your damn food.” Will pushed the tray towards his boyfriend’s side of the table. After a minute of no response, he scooted round to sit beside his fellow demigod, a burly arm clasping across lithe shoulders in a comforting gesture. 

“I’m worried about you, Nico.” His voice dropped to a whisper.

“...”

“Shit’s hard and it’s not getting any easier, but we can share the burden.” He snorted, “Spread the load or whatever.”

A wry grin, “I’ll spread your load.”

“We’re in public, death boy.” Will chastised, though there wasn’t any heat in it. “Can’t have a bad reputation with the mortals, since they ooooobviously care about us.”

“You started it.”

“Hey I was being motivational!” Will protested, gesticulating wildly and nearly knocking over the tray. He tossed a few more nuggets into his mouth and kept talking, chewing loudly. “You should appreciate your elders, young man.”

“I’m like a hundred years older than you, idiot.” Nico rolled his eyes and burrowed further into Will’s half embrace.

“You’re short though.”

Their height difference had, indeed, become more noticeable over the past few months. Will had grown taller and broader, stooping to get through doorways and towering over most of the camp. All blond hair and rippling muscles under sun-kissed skin (or would a kiss from his own dad be _really weird)_. Personally, Nico thought he looked rather gorgeous as he grew out of the awkward bumbling teenager into the envy of the Aphrodite cabin.

Meanwhile, Nico himself hadn’t exactly… grown. Sure, he looked less like a child, but he was half starved, haggard, exhausted and scarred. The pale freak with a shaggy mane of pitch hair he’d stopped cutting long ago, which Will ran his hands through on their nights alone, and haunted eyes that fearfully darted about a room before setting foot inside.

“What did I ever do to deserve you?” He whispered to himself.

Will snorted, “Right back at ya, Neeks. You’re so much more than ya think.”

The two sat in companionable quiet, munching their food (or pointedly not in Nico’s case) and basking in a rare moment of peace. The place stank of grease, a kid was screaming somewhere nearby, the air was heavy and the seats were stiff, but it was more than they’d had in a while. 

Eventually Will broke the silence. “In all seriousness, though. Eat something. Please. You don’t have to deal with anything alone - we’re a team, right? I’m worried.”

“I know.”

“I’m here for you, no matter what. Like you always are for me.”

“I know.”

“Please eat something.”

A quieter voice this time. “Ok.”

God, he was pathetic! Here’s a perfect human being, all beautiful and happy and _kind,_ worrying over a broken little boy who can’t get anything right. Couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep, couldn’t smile, couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t breathe. Fuck. 

The air was too heavy, thick and cloying and smelling of food he’d never eat _can’t eat shouldnt eat won’t eat_. The clattering of fryers and screeching kids were drowned out by an ever increasing throbbing in his ears, his skull, his chest. Tears blurred his vision and he screwed his eyes shut to block everything out.

Too warm _~~(~~ ~~warm like a volcano, like deep under the earth~~ ). _Too loud ( ~~ _screech of metal and the cries of the fallen)_~~. Too quiet ( _ ~~the funerals~~ )_. Suffocating. A staccato rhythm in his ears accelerated wildly out of control, pulsing and trembling and sobbing.

Too much. Too much. He had to make it stop. Fuck.

How do you breathe again? In, out, in, out. Right - calm down. Where was he? A McDonalds with Will. Lovely, sweet, kind Will. Focused on his hand clasped in a vice grip around porcelain. Focused on the cool tile of the bathroom beneath his knees. He was in a bathroom? He wasn’t supposed to shadow travel so much, especially not at the moment.

Fuck, focus. 

Vomit. In the toilet. The bitter taste stung rancid in his mouth. Oh okay then. When did that happen?

He spent a few minutes with his forehead on the cool tiled wall, remembering to breathe. Everything was softer now, muted and sluggish. He was so, so tired.

No. Go find Will. He’s worried ( _ ~~why does he care~~ ). _ Find Will.

The creak of an opening door. A warm body dropped beside him, arms cradling close. “Everything’s fine, Neeks. Everything’s fine.”

“No it fucking ain’t.” He snarked, or tried to. It mostly came out as a stuttered, broken confession.

He was pulled to his feet by a sturdy warmth. Warm, soft. Comfy. She could fall asleep here and never wake back up. “You’re right. But it will be.”

“I highly doubt that.” 

“Okay, it’ll get better at least. Quit whittling down my optimism and let’s leave this shithole.”

“As you wish, sir sunshine.” He attempted a wan smile, and the message seemed to get across as Will hefted him into his arms without breaking a sweat, marching him out the restroom, out the McDonalds and into fresh air.

The afternoon was cool and the streets quiet. Rivulets of water trickled down windows and the concrete was dark with moisture, puddles forming and rippling as footsteps sliced through them. Towers and skyscrapers gleamed proud and tall in the distance, but down here was calmer, more personal.

Afternoon bled into evening as the duo wandered through the city together, glad for a day of peace. They didn’t really do much but just their shared company was more than enough to fill the day with contentment.

Huh, Contentment. Satisfaction. 

The heaviness in his stomach never went away, nor did the exhaustion. He still frantically scanned for threats, still moved quietly and stuck to the shadows. He was still broken, pathetic little Nico.

But there was a reason to keep going. He was loved and he loved back, with all of his heart and more. Things weren’t magically fixed and never would be. Things weren’t perfect. Nothing was the idyllic paradise he longed for every waking moment, but...

“I guess you were right.”

“Eh?”

“Things do get a bit easier.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is a prime example of writing something that’s meant to be fluffy but then quickly it ends up sad as shit. Because these angsty bois are sad and I’m revisiting old fandoms again.
> 
> Hell, I might even make a series.  
>    
> Yeah probably not.
> 
> I’ll deal with horrible pacing and general bad writing when i’m more awake.


End file.
